


Sticky Sweet

by phipiohsum475



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caramel, First Date, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Porn with (just a tiny bit of) Plot, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phipiohsum475/pseuds/phipiohsum475
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So tell, Mycroft, what exactly were you hoping to accomplish tonight? Did you want to seduce me? Tease me with those tempting three piece suits, and that reserved demeanor that all but begs to be taken apart?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticky Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily) for the beta!

John looked at the card in his hand and back at the address on the door. He was in the right location, but wasn’t sure why he’d been directed by Mycroft to come to such a posh address. He knocked anxiously and straightened his suit. His only instruction was to “Arrive, Resplendently Dressed.” He wore his best suit, though that wasn’t terribly resplendent. He refused to buy new clothes, especially luxury items, without more information than a business card with an address and three words.

The door opened, and John first noticed the smell of carbon before the flushed face of Mycroft Holmes. “Do come in, Doctor Watson,” he smiled politely, but John could see the strain creaking in the corners of his eyes.

John hurried in, stripping his jacket off, and offering, “How can I help?”

Mycroft rushed down the hall to a door on the right and John followed him in. He coughed in the thick air, and waved his hand in front of his face to clear the air.

“What the hell happened here?”

John heard the click of two knobs, then felt the cool air wafting in from window.

As the kitchen cleared out, Mycroft turned to John.

“I apologize John. I seem to have made something of a fool of myself. I expect you’ll want to leave now. Is it too much to implore that you keep my-“ he waved his hand in the direction of the smoking stove, “-my mistake, from my brother? His taunting, while ineffective, is an irritant.”

John tilted his head, trying to filter through this information to compile an explanation that made sense, then just gave up. “Mycroft. What the hell happened here?”

Mycroft collapsed in a chair, palm to his face. “Nothing, Dr. Watson, nothing at all. Just go. This is a disaster and we haven’t even begun. If I were a spiritual man, I might call it a sign.”

John was thoroughly confused, but being summoned here at all was intriguing and John wasn’t leaving without justification. “We haven’t begun what?”

Mycroft gave John a tired expression eerily similar to his brother’s, and sighed, “Observe, John.”

John looked around, and joked, “Well, now that the air has cleared, I suppose I can.”

Mycroft groaned.

John looked in the oven, clearing the smoke out of his face, then commented, “A Sunday roast, how lovely.” He moved to the stove, “Vegetables, potatoes, all with a variety of spice and-“ he sniffed, “real butter. Of course, nothing artificial for you.” John looked around further and commented, “So, if you are going through all this trouble, I imagine you’ve got dessert.” He walked to the fridge, opened it, and nodded, “Yes, you have a date.”

John slammed the refrigerator shut, and rolled his eyes, “Why the fuck am I here, Mycroft?”

Mycroft look pained, “Do you do this with Sherlock? Get one observation shy of a reasonable deduction, and give up?”

John frowned, but furrowed his brow in thought for just a while longer. “Nope, sorry. I can only come up with the impossible.”

“And the impossible is?”

“Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d think I was your date.”

Mycroft looked up from his hand with a pointed expression.

“No.” John admonished, then as Mycroft continued his stare, “No. Me?”

Mycroft raised his brows.

“Me? What could I possibly have to interest you?” John looked skeptical.

“John, you are… “ Mycroft looked down, face flushed.

John stared; could it be true? _Did he…_ “Do you… “ John started, “Do you fancy me?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “If so banal a phrase may suit.”

John twisted around, looking at all the preparations, “This is all for me?”

Mycroft just stared at him.

“So, yes, then?” John smirked. He started to see the full picture. “You fancied me, and you thought you’d make me dinner. A proper date. But you also thought you could multi-task; do a little diplomacy between checking the roast? Took a bit too long?” John chuckled, and stepped towards Mycroft.

“Maybe, Mycroft, instead of trying to woo me, perhaps you should have just asked.” John was on stable footing know. _Flirting_. This he could do. And with Mycroft; well. Sherlock could be spectacular ignorant at certain things. One of those things was how deliciously _fuckable_ his older brother could be.

He took another step towards Mycroft, with a cocksure look on his face. “So tell, Mycroft, what exactly were you hoping to accomplish tonight? Did you want to seduce me? Tease me with those tempting three piece suits, and that reserved demeanor that all but begs to be taken apart? Did you hope, Mycroft-“ and John placed his hands on the armrests of Mycroft’s chair and leaned in even further, “did you hope to _fuck_ me tonight?”

Mycroft’s blush creeped up his neck, and damn near competed with his eyebrows. He tilted his neck, while keeping careful eye on John, “Certainly John, I expected nothing untoward of you.”

John smiled, knowingly, “Expected? Of course not. Hoped? Craved? Wished? Desired? Tell me, are you always this shy?”

Mycroft widened his eyes in alarm, “Shy? I am nothing of the sort!”

“Then prove it,” John ordered, still leaning far into his space, just centimeters from his face.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, then with a stern grin, lashed out and grabbed John’s tie, pulling him in. With a sudden motion, his lips pressed to John’s. He felt John laugh under him, and he let go of the tie, grabbing the back of his neck instead. John moaned and leaned further into Mycroft, taking one hand off the armrest and pulling on Mycroft’s tie for good measure.

Their lips caressed, slips of the tongue teased and tortured, and John took the initiative to nibble softly on Mycroft’s lower lip. Mycroft pulled away and breathed deeply, panting hard. “My, John, you- you are quite capable.”

John breathed out with intent, “Oh, Mycroft, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Mycroft closed his eyes, and turned his head to take a deep breath, but John looked down and saw the hardening in his slacks. John ran one hand down Mycroft’s jaw, then continued downwards, tugging at his tie to loosen it.

“Let’s make you more comfortable, shall we?”

Mycroft snapped his head towards John, eyes dark with want. John grinned, like a shark descending towards its prey. Both hands came up, unknotting the tie, and pulling it from around his neck. He moved down to Mycroft’s buttons, starting with his waistcoat. He continued onto the dress shirt and suddenly Mycroft came to life.

Mycroft’s hands bolted up, and started in on John’s shirt. John smiled as he pressed into Mycroft’s lips, and they hurried to reveal each other’s flesh. John first exposed Mycroft’s fine chest; absent of a vest, his pale skin was dotted with gorgeous freckles, downy curls of ginger hair sprouted up to his collarbone and down into his trousers, and John groaned at the feel of the warm, soft skin beneath his fingers.

“Jesus, Mycroft, do you know how fucking gorgeous you are?” John pulled back long enough to say, before dipping back in to taste him again. After a thorough snogging, John began to descend, making his way to Mycroft’s pale, sinewy neck, and sucked softly, enough to bring only a few burst blood vessels to the surface. A mark, but not clearly a love bite. Something Mycroft would look into a mirror and see, but that wouldn’t embarrass him in front of his colleagues.

Mycroft let out a noise not unlike a whimper, and John chuckled, moving down to the juncture between Mycroft’s neck and shoulder, slowly assaulting him with sweet, tempting swirls of his tongue. Mycroft cried out again, but this time he pushed back, and with a sudden vitality, Mycroft vaulted them both six feet across the room, where the counter dug into John’s back as he groaned in ecstasy.

“Fucking hell, Mycroft,” John breathed into Mycroft’s lips, and Mycroft smirked. While it might have took him a few moments to get his bearings, Mycroft found his confidence, and pressed John into the counter, desperately taking his breath into his own lungs. He wanted all of John, his touch, his taste, his desire.

John clamored, pulling off Mycroft’s loose jacket and waistcoat, then pawing at his dress shirt. When Mycroft shook off the offending clothing, John chuckled in victory. Mycroft doubled his attack, stripping John’s top layers off until they were in equal states of undress. John refused to be beaten; not in this battle of wills. He would not fall victim to Mycroft’s ministrations. Using his last reserves of conscious thought, before he succumbed to lust, he flipped them around, so that Mycroft’s abdomen was pressed hard against the rounded marble countertop.

With a breathy exhale, Mycroft gripped the counter while John nibbled on his shoulders, one arm holding him up and the other snaking around to roam Mycroft’s chest. John found his nipple, and rolled it gently between his fingers; then harder until Mycroft began to pant breathily, “John, oh please. John, yes.”

John looked around at the counter and grinned madly. Within a moment, he wrapped both hands around Mycroft to undo his belt. His fingers brushed against Mycroft’s cock, sending gooseflesh over the freckled skin. John shoved Mycroft’s slacks and pants towards the floor, then tapped Mycroft’s thigh to suggest he shimmy all the way out. With a hasty hop, Mycroft was gloriously nude. John ran his fingers down Mycroft’s flank, to his hips then his thighs, “Ah, yes. Resplendent,” he breathlessly complimented.

Mycroft made to turn, but John manhandled him back against the counter. He quickly dropped his own trousers and pants, cock already thick and ready, then pressed the entirety of his body flush with Mycroft’s as he reached past him for the telltale bottle on the counter. The olive oil wouldn’t be good for penetration, but should make other activities perfectly slick. He kicked Mycroft’s legs further apart to lessen the height difference, then poured the oil on his aching cock, and onto the gentle slope of Mycroft’s arse. Mycroft hissed at the chill. As John pressed back into him to replace the oil, his cock nuzzled between Mycroft’s cheeks, and a shuddered gasp escaped the taller man.

John grinned and grabbed the small jar he’d seen near the oil, and, while softly rutting against Mycroft, opened the jar and slowly poured the sweet liquid caramel in a thick line down Mycroft’s spine. The sugary smell floated on the air and Mycroft whimpered at the realization.  John bent down to lick the caramel up, alternating between wide swaths of tongue and gentle sucking to cleanse the skin of the viscous dessert. Mycroft varied between weak moans and delicious sobs.

As John reached to suckle and lick the skin between his shoulder blades, he fell into a rhythm of sliding his throbbing cock through the valley of Mycroft’s arse, and being sure to catch against the rim of his hole on each pass. Mycroft’s groans turned absolutely whorish, loud and wanton.

“Fucking hell, Mycroft, you make the most gorgeous noises. You sound so fucking pretty.”

Mycroft gasped again, knuckles white where they held on to the counter.

“I’m so close,” John panted, “Christ, do I wish I could fuck you. Open you up and slide in, watching you stretch to take me. I bet you’d be so tight, and I’d ride your sweet arse so hard until you were positively begging for it. Crying for it, aching for it, until the only thing in that clever head is how good my cock makes you feel.” John’s hand drifted down to Mycroft’s neglected cock.

Mycroft let out a strangled cry, “John, yes, please John!”

“One more time, say it again,” John encouraged.

“Please John. Please!” Mycroft cried out, and hearing Mycroft beg, hearing his name spoken with such craving, John nearly growled as he came pearly stripes over Mycroft’s arse. His body shuddered through its release, and he slumped over for just a moment onto Mycroft’s back to catch his breath, before suddenly flipping Mycroft around.

Pushing his back to the counter, John dropped to his knees and engulfed Mycroft’s cock. He loudly groaned around its heavy feel in his mouth and started bobbing enthusiastically, eagerly taking in as much as he could. He wrapped his hand around the rest, still slightly slick with oil, and Mycroft’s noises grew louder, as he ran his fingers through John’s hair.

“Such a-“ Mycroft panted, “-such a lovely mouth.” Mycroft’s nerves were singing throughout his body, as John’s tongue worked hereto unknown magic up the underside of his cock. He was awash in bliss, and felt himself close to glory.

John hummed his pleasure around Mycroft’s cock, and then moaned as Mycroft tightened his grip and started lightly thrusting in time with John’s attentions.

“Oh, John!” Mycroft warned, but John only took him down further, and Mycroft cried out as he came, John’s mouth flooding with the bitter thickness of ejaculate. John swallowed, keeping his mouth around Mycroft, then tenderly cleaned the softening member until Mycroft’s knees buckled.

John pulled back and wiped his lips, as Mycroft slid down to sit on the floor. John smiled, and straddled him. He cupped Mycroft’s face in his hands, and leaned to kiss him softly.

A content hum escaped Mycroft as he licked into John’s mouth; a lovely mixture of the sweet caramel and Mycroft’s own taste. They kissed lazily until a chill began to invade the room. John pulled back, and gazed into Mycroft’s eyes; and simultaneously, they both began to giggle.

“Well, I certainly am more educated to your capabilities. If you would be amenable, I would be happy to learn more of the capabilities you suggest earlier.”

John’s laughter grew, and he laid his head on Mycroft’s shoulder, “Is that your way of saying you’d like me to fuck you next time?”

“John, I care less about what you will do, so long as there will be a next time.”

“Are you kidding? I couldn’t give this up if I tried.”

“You flatter me,” Mycroft blushed, and pressed a kiss to John’s temple. “Well, shall we order some takeaway? And perhaps a shower?”

“As long as I can join you for both.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more me on [Tumblr](http://phipiohsum475.tumblr.com/).  
> You can find more Johncroft at [MycroftandJohn.tumblr.com](http://mycroftandjohn.tumblr.com/).


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